


A Machiavellian’s Ruse

by FinVander



Category: Fiction - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:34:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29762481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FinVander/pseuds/FinVander
Summary: A young man who is short on money gets offered a questionable job position at his local insane asylum. The facility is owned by a friend of his fathers, the pay is exceptionally high, and the job is described as a glorified janitor. It seems almost too good to be true. It’s a wonder nobody else had taken the job. But what lies within the walls of Aspen Insane Asylum is anything but good. Christopher realizes the other employees are acting very strangely, and speaks about a dangerous patient in constant 24 hour isolation. Curiosity overtakes him, and he speaks to the manipulative and cunning patient. The patient, who is called simply ‘the man in isolation,’ makes him begin to question if the other employees are who they say they are.





	A Machiavellian’s Ruse

“Are you actually serious? You’re crazy if you think I’m going to work at some loony bin just to make a quick buck! I know you have way more than enough money to pay for me to get through college.” At this, my father’s chest puffed in frustration, as he gave an exasperated sigh. He always reminded me of a bull when he did this, puffing hot air out of his nose and boring his stubborn dark eyes into mine. I almost cracked a smile at this thought, but my expression quickly straightened out when he scolded me.

“Christopher, you are an adult now. I’m done coddling you. It doesn’t matter if I have the money to send you to college. It isn’t your money to spend. If you want to further your education, you are going to fully pay for it just like your mother and I did when we were your age. If we did it, so can you.”

Finally realizing he wasn’t going to budge and cave in this time, I turned away and let out my best disheartening groan. “Oh come on now Chris, the job is not nearly as bad as you think it is. Listen here now. My friend Dr. Hale runs the place. It’s a private facility, so the pay is exceptional. He told me that you seldom even come in contact with the prisoners, it’s basically a glorified janitorial position.” I turned again to face him, my mind skimming through his proposition for a moment, and focusing in on the part about high pay. 

“How much did you say the pay was?” I probed. His round face formed a smirk when he realized that he had finally piqued my interest, chin tilted up in satisfaction.   
“Fifteen fifty an hour!” He replied in a sing-song voice. And with that, my mind was made, head racing with the things I could do with that much money. Fifteen dollars an hour was a lot in 1989. Hell, I would shovel shit for the rest of my life for a pay like that. Even so, I stood feigning as if I was still pondering his offer. My pride wouldn't allow me to let him know that he had won me over that easily. After a while of stroking my chin thoughtfully, I replied shrewdly.

“Let your friend Hale know that I’m interested.” 

Staring up at Aspen Insane Asylum, it was easy to tell that it was a privately owned facility. It was modest in size, but charmingly elegant in architecture. It almost reminded me of an old victorian style house the way two tall brick towers ended at a point at the top, connected by a larger and shorter brick building. The brick was paired with an oxidised copper, harmonizing well with the fog that often appears this early in the morning. If it was up to me, I would have rather slept in a bit later, but my father insisted I arrive thirty minutes early on my first day so that Dr. Hale could show me the ropes before the prisoners woke up for the day. I had driven past this place many times during my time in Aspen, but I never had the displeasure of actually going inside  
.  
My boots carried me almost unwillingly ever closer to the dreary building, as my hand finally latched onto the door handle. With one heavy push, the door swung open, revealing a small reception office with a desk, and past it, a hallway that seemed to go on forever. A small older woman appeared from a side door, greeting me with an overly cheerful smile. “Hello! Are you here to visit somebody today?” She greeted, her voice high and lively. I took a step back in bewilderment, shaking my head. 

“No no no, I was hired by Dr. Hale? Today is my first day.” At that, she dropped her cheery nature, it was startling to say the least. 

“Oh, I wasn’t told about you. I’ll take you to see him now,” she countered, as she turned and began to lead me down the unsettling hallway. It was lined with large metal doors and thick glass, each consisting of a number. The atmosphere became more and more uncomfortable as I continued down the endless corridor. I decided to attempt to make small talk.  
“It’s pretty quiet here, what time do the patients usually wake up in the morning.” 

“The prisoners are woken up at eight o’clock every morning, and ten o’clock on sundays.” 

Her tone was bitter and cold when she referred to the residents of the facility, as if they weren't even human. We continued to share one-sided small talk until we finally reached the end of the hallway, and there stood the final metal door, which looked quite different. It was separated from the rest of the cells. Unlike the rest, there was no number. Only the words Solitary Confinement Cell. Strangely enough, there were no windows, no way to perceive the outside world. Only a small slot on the door that was about knee length, which I assumed was for delivering meals to the prisoners without making any kind of contact. It left my mind racing with what person would be evil enough to be treated like this. Almost as if she read my mind, she began speaking in a serious tone. 

“This is our one and only solitary confinement cell, as you probably already read. The prisoner that is kept here is highly dangerous, and you are not to speak to him under any circumstances. He is manipulative and deceitful, I wouldn’t want you listening to his silly lies and stories.”

I didn’t know what to say to this, so I simply nodded my head, and continued following as she led me down the turn in the hallway, and finally opened the door to what I assumed was Dr. Hale’s office. Behind an absurdly cluttered dark wood desk sat a tall bald man with thick rimmed glasses. He wore a kind smile, and a dark purple dress shirt. His arms were resting behind his head, legs crossed, almost as if he had been sitting there waiting for me all morning. “Thank you, you can go now, Vonnie.” He addressed her in a demeaningly gentle voice. To which she spun on her heels and made her way back down the hallway, heels clacking harshly against the stone tiled floor. As soon as she was out of ear-sight, the man finally addressed me. 

“Hello, I’m Dr. Hale, and as you probably already know, I am the owner of this facility. I do a lot of office work, as well as hands-on work with the prisoners’ rehabilitation. You must be the young Christopher. It’s so great to meet you.” He stuck out a large stubby hand for me to shake, which I did with a nervously firm grip. He certainly didn’t leave any room for a reply. Not that I was very eager for introductions anyway. Despite his peculiar chummy demeanor, I was still very nervous about being here. As if on cue, a strangled noise escaped the throat of what I assumed was one of the prisoners. It reverberated through the extensive hallways. And with that, a chorus of babbling and clamor began to slowly crescendo through the building as more and more of the prisoners began to wake. “Ah!” The friendly man exclaimed. “Look who is up bright and early this morning!”

A grin split his face as he trailed out of his office and began treading down the hallway, paying no attention to the eerily silent solitary confinement cell. His hearty voice billowed over the commotion with “good mornings,” and “hellos.” Seldom did he receive a reply that resembled actual words though. The pandemonium that ensued around me caused my body to stiffen, and fierce adrenaline to make its way through my veins. I wanted to turn and run. I wanted to forget about this place, about my job, about paying for college, about everything. I was in way over my head, this was too much for me. But one particular thing, one particular person, that left me achingly curious. And that was the man being kept in isolation. An ethereal pull of inquisitiveness seemed to be pulling me ever closer to that plain looking cell. 

As if he knew I was watching, a deep and captivating voice buzzed on the other side of the door. “Why hello. I don’t recognize you sir, you must be new here. Pleasure to meet you, let's get along.” A thin, pale hand reached its way through the small slot in the door for me to shake, causing me to jump back in bewilderment. His knuckles were bruised, and his fingernails were a sickeningly yellow color. At the sound of his voice, Dr. Hale snapped his head around and made a move to kick the hand that protruded from the door. But the hand was too fast, quickly slipping back into the cell with a charming chuckle. “Ah ah ah. Nice try doctor." Dr. Hale scoffed at this, and turned to me, ignoring the man's remark. 

“Vonnie told you to steer clear of him, right?” I again, nodded my head in reply. “You’re quite timid, aren't you boy? You might want to fix that if you want to survive here.”   
“I guess so.” I replied, shrugging my shoulders. It was at that moment that I knew, this was going to be more than a janitor job. My father had lied to me. I was furious, but not discouraged enough to quit. I was exasperated at the people around me thinking too little of me. A sudden rush of determination filled my mind, and I made an agreement with myself that I was going to keep this job until I had enough money to pay for college. 

Surprisingly, the rest of the day flew by. My job consisted of cleaning up in the kitchen, doing janitor work throughout the facility, and delivering food to the cafeteria, and then the man in isolation. Whose name I never caught for some reason, despite the fact that he introduced himself to me. I wondered if this was intentional, and this wonder led to an endless sea of wonders and inquires about the mysteries man. I decided to be upfront about my curiosity, and ask Dr. Hale about him directly. But the conversation somehow left me with more questions than answers. He was definitely being overly secretive, and I could tell that he was hiding something that would drive me away. The most I got out of him was a first name, but even that was questionable.

“Everybody here calls him Nico. We aren't allowed to disclose his full name due to publicity reasons, wouldn’t want the wrong kind of people showing up around here, you know what I mean boy?” I most definitely did not know what he meant, but I went along as to not embarrass myself in front of my new boss. 

When I finally left the Insane Asylum after hours of work and inquisitiveness, it looked quite similar outside as it did when I endered that morning. Dark and dreary, but the fog of uncertainty was lifted, and replaced with at least the knowledge enough to form questions for thought. What crimes did this Nico commit for him to be locked in solitary confinement twenty-four hours a day? What did publicity have to do with this, is he some kind of famous serial killer? And for some reason, I wondered what his face looked like. It was unsettling to not have a face to put with his voice. Those questions for thought followed me all the way home, and into my bed. They did not leave me until my last moment of consciousness when my head hit the pillow. 

Over the next couple of weeks I fell into a sort of routine. I would drive over to the Asylum, do some basic janitor work and cleaning, begin serving meals to the prisoners in the cafeteria, and then I would deliver meals to Nico. Despite the previous warning bestowed upon me by my fellow employee, I fell into the troubling habit of casual conversation with the lonely man in isolation. For being completely cut off from other people and the outside world, Nico certainly knew how to be charming and accommodating in discussion. The way he spoke softly in his deep and hearty voice drew me closer to where I sat crisscross outside his door during our daily little meetings. He had a way of opening me up when we spoke, like gently prying open an oyster for the lavish pearl it held. His pearl was any kind of thoughtful response I presented him with through the small slot in the door parallel to where I sat. 

Today's oyster was the recent presidential election. How he knew exactly when that had happened was up for debate, although I assumed he was keeping track of the days in there somehow. Maybe scratching little ticks on the wall. “The presidential inauguration must have been just a few weeks ago right? I assume that Bush and Dukakis were the two that were elected for nominees of their respective parties, considering what I heard from them before. But I haven’t heard anything since then, obviously. You know how it is Chrissy, nobody else here is considerate enough to even breath in my direction.” He babbled. 

That was a detail I had noticed about him recently. He had started calling me the doting nickname, Chrissy. I didn’t know whether to be flattered or uncertain. But he seemed genuine enough. All he ever wanted to talk about was pointless things like the nearby shoe store going bankrupt, or politics, or recent weather events. None of which was anything to be concerned about in my eyes. It was all harmless banter of a lonely man. 

“Bush, by a landslide.” I muttered hastily, and I heard a snort reverberate from inside the cell. 

“Figures,” he chortled. “That humiliating photo of him in that tank is what caused it surly. Have you seen it Chrissy? The thing had me laughing for hours.” I had indeed seen the photo, and a soft chuckle escaped me upon remembering seeing it in an attack ad run by Bush. That photo had been taken on November thirteenth, and with some hasty mental math, I concluded that he had to have been in solitary confinement for at least three months. I wondered if I could ever last that long, but I knew the answer was definitely a no way in hell. Because of this, I admired Nico in an odd sort of way. Not only this, but he respected me in a way no other person in my life did. Most people like to talk about themself, begrudgingly pausing to half heartedly listen to what you have to say, before interrupting you to continue their overbearing life story. 

But not Nico. Sure, he was definitely one to ramble on, but he intentionally spoke in a way that drew responses out of me, like coaxing a stray cat closer to you to pat it. And the few times my responses were longer than a few words, he listened. I mean, really listened. Even through the thick metal door separating us, I could tell he was giving me his full attention. The way he hummed in gentle appreciation, chuckled at anything remotely amusing, and asked thoughtful questions that had me eager to reply. Call me crazy, but talking to Nico was the highlight of my day.

So when we were caught in the act as I was handing him his lunch one afternoon, I was unsure whether to lie to him or not. Dr. Hale had soundlessly exited his office and turned the corner to see Nico striking up a conversation with me, as I gently slid the pale blue plastic tray of food through the metal slot. As soon as the sound of Nicos hoarse voice graced his ears, his face morphed into one filled with repulsion and infatuation. My eyes widened as I hastily took a few steps backwards, still facing the door. I’m not quite sure how, but Nico noticed the other man's fuming presence. “Ah, good afternoon doctor. It’s good to see you.” Nico greeted, without an ounce of fear in his voice. My blood ran cold for him. 

“Christopher, why don’t you head home early today,” Dr. Hale suggested calmly. But his stone cold face said otherwise. Seeing the fear on my face, he continued. “Don’t you worry boy, I will sort him right out for you. He won’t be bothering you again after today.” My boots were glued to the ground. I couldn’t bring myself to leave him there, not knowing what punishment awaited him after I left. But I really didn’t have much of a choice. “Go on now boy.” The man shooed. Taking a deep and shaky breath, I took a few steps backwards, eyes still on the menacing metal door, before begrudgingly taking my leave. 

It was quite peculiar leaving the asylum when daylight still graced the winter sky. I realized then that I had never seen the building up close in the daytime. It looked much more run down and neglected this way. I could now see the fading of the oxidised rust that colored the accents of the building, and the crumbling brickwork that held the place together. As I turned to continue my way toward the nearly empty parking lot, I noted that the state of the edifice matched what it contained. 

As I departed my father’s house bright and early the next morning, I made sure to pack a couple of my mother’s baked cookies for Nico. Although I knew uninspected contraband was not allowed to be brought inside the building. Grievously, I wondered if he was even still alive to enjoy them. I worked myself up into a bit of a tizzy the night before thinking about him, and my mind tended to jump to the worst of conclusions. I was beyond eager to check up on him, and not so eager to greet my cruel boss. Leisurely made my way down the never ending hallway lined with cells, I spun my hefty ring of keys around my finger gingerly. Unlike usual, I made my way straight to his cell, not worrying much about who would see me. Not many people were roaming the halls this early in the morning anyway. Besides, I harbored an ever growing distaste for my boss, so I was keen to disrespect his orders. 

An ever so gentle knock on the solid door elicited a soft, groggy groan from the man on the other side. I took notice of how cold the metal was against my tawny knuckles, and how the quiet knock echoed through the seemingly abandoned hallways. “Please. No.” The state of Nico's voice was disheartening to say the least. 

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s just me. I brought you something.” I spoke tenderly, as to not spook the broken man. I heard him perk up and approached the door, as I carefully slipped two cookies wrapped in a napkin through the small slot in the door. He let out a quiet and somber chuckle, his deep and airy voice reverberating through the cell. 

“Thanks Chrissy, for thinking about me. It means a lot.” He was not his usual extroverted and chatty self. My face strained with pity and empathy. 

“Of course Nico, anytime.” 

“Nicholas.” he muttered quietly. 

“What?” 

“Nick, my name Nick.” he clarified, putting his hand through the slot in the door for me to shake. This time there was nobody to kick it away. I noticed the dried blood under his fingernails, the bruises dotting his knuckles. It made my heart ache. I grasped his hand delicately, afraid that I would break it. I held it that way for a while, lightly grazing his knuckles with my thumb. His hand was frigid and pale. “Chrissy, there is something very important I need to tell you. I wanted to tell you sooner, for your safety, but I didn’t want to scare you away. You’d better take a seat.” My spine went rigid, and I carefully sat cricross in front of the door, leaning in closer to listen.

“My full name is Nicholas Hale. I’m actually Dr. Hale. The real prisoner that was supposed to be kept in this cell somehow escaped three months ago, and locked me in here in his place. Ever since, he has stolen my identity and has been impersonating me. Acting as the owner of this Asylum, as your boss. You know why he never told you my name? Because he knew you would find out that I am a missing person. He won’t let me speak to anybody, not even the other prisoners. He’s a mad man, he planned all of this. You’re the only person I can talk to, the only person who will listen. You’re my last hope Chrissy, please, you have to believe me. I don’t know what else to do.” 

I dropped his hand in shock, and it slithered back to the other side of the cell. My jaw slackened in shock, as my entire body slumped over. My back was now pressed up against the door, and I leaned my head back against the chilled metal to gain some clarity. Little did I know that the man on the other side was doing the same. I let his words ricochet around in my head for a few moments, trying to process all of the information I was just given. What he said made sense, Dr. Hale, or as I am being told, the real prisoner, was always incredibly overly secretive with me about Nico. I did find it strange that he never told me his name. He also never really mentioned my father at all, or the phone call in which they arranged my employment. Everything began to add up. Vonnies cold demeanor towards me, my bosses over friendly conversation, the way he was overly cruel to Nico. At times it almost seemed like he was obsessed with Nico, constantly peeking his head out of his office to peer at his cell. 

I peered down at the ring of keys in my hand, examining the silver key that opened the solitary confinement cell. Deliberating the free life of the man held inside this cell. After maybe a few minutes of mulling it over in my mind, I finally made a decision. “Right now?” I whispered to him. He hummed curiously in reply. “Should I open the door right now, or do you have a plan to do it later?” Nick gasped in pure relief, but quickly collected himself. 

“Yes, right now. Hurry, before the other employees start to get here.” His voice was ecstatic and hurried as I began to fumble with my keys. “I knew I could count on you to do the right thing Chrissy. You’re a good kid.” I huffed in reply as I examined the key one last time before jamming into the keyhole. I was finally going to be able to put a face to his voice. I slowly turned the key, and carefully pulled the thick door open as it creaked with movement. I was met with a thin and scraggly man. He looked nothing at all like I thought he would. His voice did not match his body at all. He took a step towards me, and I took a step back, as he fully pushed the door open. He wore a kind smile, but his eyes had a crazed glaze over them. For the first time in three months, the man's bare feet felt the tiled floor. 

I stood in shock, unsure of what to do next. A curious thought graced my mind. “When he gets here, he will notice the cell is empty.” I didn’t realize how tense and nervous I was until I noticed the strain in my voice. 

“Oh, I’m sure that we will find a way.” He replied. But it didn’t sound like Nick anymore. It sounded like a lunatic. Oh Shit. A pair of surprisingly strong arms took hold of me and shoved me into the chilly cramped cell, slamming the door in one swift movement. Realizing what had just happened, I began pounding on the door, but it was in vain. “I’m really sorry to have to do this to you Chrissy. You were a really nice kid, I wish it wasn’t you. Maybe in another life we could have been great friends.”


End file.
